Blossom in Winter

by Melanie Martins

  “Ah, Roy, Petra. So happy to see you guys.”

  “Paulo. How are you?” greets Dad happily.

  “Good morning, Mr. Marques. Congratulations on the occasion. It’s really beautiful,” I add.

  “Not as beautiful as you, Ms. Van Gatt. Let me introduce you to my future wife, Anabela.”

  “Hi, Anabela, I’m very glad to meet you. Can’t wait for tomorrow.”

  “Many thanks, Ms. Van Gatt. It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” replies Anabela, kissing my cheek.

  “These are my twins, Luiz and Miguel, and this is Claudia, Miguel’s girlfriend,” continues Paulo.

  “Hi, nice to meet you all.” I smile and shake hands with all the three. The twins look quite different. Miguel’s more athletic and taller with short brown hair, while Luiz’s skinnier with longer hair and a more casual, less polished look.

  “Miguel, Luiz, Claudia, this is Petra Van Gatt, Roy’s daughter. I hope you will be amiable enough to show her Copacabana after lunch—she doesn’t know anyone here.”

  “Are you seated with us?” asks Luiz.

  I look around at the many tables. “Not sure…”

  “There’s a seating chart at the entrance,” adds Claudia.

  “Oh sure, I’m gonna go check.” I go to the entrance of the restaurant and read the table seating chart. Each table is composed of nine guests. I’m at the head table. I read more carefully the other names seated there: Paulo and Anabela, Roy, Petra, Alex, Rafaela, Luiz, Miguel, and Claudia. No, no! Terrible! I don’t want to spend the entire lunch with him and his new girlfriend! But I suddenly remember Luiz, the single twin. He’s at my table. Perfect! I’ll spend the entire lunch talking, laughing, and flirting with him. Then, after the gathering, we’ll excuse ourselves and go to the beach. Wonderful plan! Alex is definitely not expecting that.

  I go over to my father, who’s happily talking with Anabela and the rest of the group gathered near our table. “So, Anabela, I heard the wedding tomorrow will be the most magical event ever held in Rio?”

  “Oh.” She rolls her eyes. “You have no idea how stressful it’s been to get everything done the way I wanted, Roy. We are renting the Parque Lage, which has splendid views of Christ the Redeemer. You’ll love it. We’ve prepared a very special fairy-tale setting.”

  I swallow hard. Nervously hard. Alexander and Rafaela are standing at the entrance looking at the table seating chart, holding hands, and wearing matching styles. He’s sporting a light-blue linen blazer with a silk pocket square, a white shirt open at the collar, and navy pants. She’s in a light-blue sheath dress. Oh God, she’s really beautiful. I look discreetly at myself in the mirror and sigh. Rafaela seems like an elegant and mature femme fatale, and I? As Emma would say, I look like a girl going to the prom.

  I feel them coming toward us, and before I can run away… “Alex! Finally. You’re late,” shouts Paulo jokingly, giving him a friendly hug and a clap on his back. “Rafaela, wonderful as always. My God, you both look great.”

  “A perfect couple,” says Anabela.

  Ugh!

  “Maybe they’re next in line,” teases Paulo.

  Everyone bursts into laughter but me.

  “My dear friends, now that we’re all here, let’s sit. Lunch will be served in a minute.”

  Dear Lord. I’ll need a lot of caipirinhas to handle this. Or at least one. I know Dad is against me drinking alcohol, but maybe if I ask him in front of everyone, he’d be less likely to decline. “Dad, can I order a caipirinha? Everyone’s drinking one,” I dare to ask.

  He swallows hard. He never thought I’d ask such a thing and seriously considers the question.

  “Oh, Roy, c’mon, let her have a drink. It’s totally legal here in Brazil,” chides Rafaela.

  While Alex gapes at her words, I instead smile joyfully at having found an ally.

  “I’m Rafaela Lima, by the way.” She shakes my hand. “Your godfather told me a lot about you.” Seriously? Now I’m even more surprised.

  “Really?” I shake my head in astonishment, looking at his unsmiling and embarrassed face. “And when I thought he couldn’t care any less about my existence…”

  “Oh, not at all. In fact, your godfather was just telling me in the car that—”

  “You can have a drink, Petra,” interposes Alex. “I’m sure Roy’s fine with it.”

  Dad is left with no choice. “Exactly, one is alright.”

  I smile victoriously. I order one and head over to sit beside Luiz. I wonder what Alex said about me to Rafaela in the car. But I know he’ll never tell me. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve got to get used to this new reality. A reality in which Alex is touching and holding hands with another woman besides me.

  “So, Petra, what are you studying?”

  Why on earth does she want to chat with me?

  “Economics at Columbia University,” I reply back.

  “Oh, wow. Ivy League. So, what’s the plan? Follow your dad’s path?”

  “I wouldn’t mind. So far, I have my own art fund. And later I’d like to focus on art dealership, growing the fund, leasing the artworks, opening a gallery…”

  “You already have your own fund? Impressive. And how old are you, if I may ask? Twenty?”

  “Seventeen,” corrects Dad, his face beaming with pride. “If Petra continues like this, very soon we’ll see her on Forbes Thirty Under Thirty. Hopefully, as the youngest listed. We are working hard to make it possible. Right, Petra?”

  I nod.

  “Unbelievable,” exclaims Rafaela. “I never thought you were that young.”

  I hate to be the center of attention. I give her a polite smile, take a sip of my caipirinha—which is way stronger than I thought—and focus on Luiz.

  Alexander Van Dieren

  She’s incredibly beautiful today. A celestial princess. I love to see her wearing dresses with ribbons wrapped around her waist. While she’s sitting on the other side of the table, it’s hard not to notice her, with such a cute and enticing smile and with her laugh always so charming, innocent, and childlike. But she’s neither smiling at me, nor laughing with me. No. She has found a young Brazilian man who has clearly captivated her. She has spent the entire lunch ignoring everyone but him. Luiz is smitten, obviously—who wouldn’t be with such a cultivated and delightful woman? I notice how Luiz delicately tucked her hair behind her ear. I used to do that. Before that night. Before that kiss. I take a sip of my caipirinha and instinctively smile at the sound of her laughter, but I have no idea what Luiz just said. It doesn’t matter. She’s happy. Her eyes sparkle with joy. I look absently down at my plate for a while and let out a sigh. This is how it must be. And no matter how painful it is to see her glowing with someone else, I know that’s the right choice for her. I see Luiz whispering in her ear, and she nods.

  “Dad,” calls Luiz. “Petra, Claudia, Miguel, and I are going down to the beach, alright?”

  “Sure. You guys can change in the spa. The bags with your beachwear are in the car. Ms. Van Gatt, be sure to leave your jewelry, iPhone, wallet, and other valuables in your room, and dress as simply as possible.”

  Petra nods.

  “Very well. See you guys later.”

  I don’t like it. I lean over and whisper discreetly in Roy’s ear, “Isn’t it dangerous to let them go alone?”

  “Relax, this area is pretty safe. Right, Rafaela?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry. It’s fine.”

  She’s been gone about four hours now. The golden hour is quickly approaching in Copacabana. While the majority of guests have already left, Paulo, Anabela, and their closest friends are now in beachwear spending the rest of the afternoon by the pool and lounge. I glance once more at my watch. I hear loud male laugher splashing in the water. It’s Luiz and Miguel. They’ve returned from the beach. Claudia is with them, but not Petra.

  “Where is Petra?” I ask Claudia.

  “She stayed on the beach to watch the sunset.”

  Pfff, these guys are
so foolish. How can they think it’s okay to leave her alone when she doesn’t speak any Portuguese? I leave the hotel and cross the street, and even though the beach is still crowded, I manage to find her at a distance. She’s sitting on her beach towel near the waves, staring at the horizon, her black hair still wet from the sea.

  “Hey,” I greet, before sitting next to her on the tiny towel. She checks me out top to bottom. She must’ve noticed that I changed clothes, now wearing a half-open linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to my elbows, and dark-blue Bermuda shorts. She just smiles. I glance at the horizon where she’s staring, before looking back at her. “You know, the hotel provides comfortable lounge chairs…”

  “I’m fine,” she snaps.

  But her melancholic face says otherwise. “What’s going on, Petra?”

  “I’m just a bit down today,” she admits before taking a deep breath. “Nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine for the wedding tomorrow. I won’t disappoint anyone.”

  Looking at her without touching her is even harder than I thought. I try to focus on her words, but all I can see are her lips moving, begging to be kissed. I try to look into her eyes instead, but she’s staring at the horizon, not at me. I can smell her perfume and her jasmine hair. My heart is thundering so loud, I hope she doesn’t pay any attention to it.

  She’s sporting denim shorts for the first time. Her skinny legs look so smooth that I wonder for a brief instant how it’d feel to caress them. Her makeup has been wiped off; she looks so beautiful without it. Heck, even her long salty hair fluttering in the breeze looks beautiful. I want so much to lay her down, move my body on top of hers, and devour her mouth madly... My mind goes wild as I think about removing her shorts, feeling her skin against mine, touching her clit, and giving her the pleasure I’ve wanted to since Rome. Then, eyes looking into eyes, I’d tell her how much I… Damn it. I shut my eyes, forcing such thoughts out of my head and these stupid feelings out of my heart. But it’s hard. So hard that I can barely breathe.

  “Are you okay?”

  I blink at her question.

  My eyes finally lock with hers. C’mon, just tell her the truth. “Petra… I…” Tell her. “I have to go. See you tomorrow at the wedding.”

  I stand up and walk away. The pain of not possessing her is too much to bear. She’s a terrible temptation, but worse than that, it’s not sexual, or at least not entirely. It’s something deeper, more terrifying. Something I’ve got no power or control over. Fuck. How did I let that happen?

  I reach the pool again where Roy, Paulo, and Rafaela are happily chatting and drinking caipirinhas.

  “Hey, what’s going on? Are you alright?” asks Roy, seeing me.

  “You should talk to Petra—she’s alone on the beach. I’m sure she is feeling lonely.”

  “Very well. I’ll be right back.”

  Petra Van Gatt

  No one can see my tears falling. I’m sobbing but I couldn’t care less. At least here at Copacabana Beach, no one knows me. And there’s no one nearby to judge. He left abruptly for no reason whatsoever. As soon as I confirmed I would be fine at the wedding, he didn’t bother to stay any longer. Maybe that’s all that matters. Maybe I’m just here for the sake of showing a happy, united family for the media and guests, while he’ll be entertained by Rafaela. Ugh! The simple thought of them being sexually involved is repugnant.

  “Hey, darling. What’s going on?” asks Dad, seeing me in tears. “Are you sad to be here? Do you want to join us by the pool?”

  He sits beside me and gives me a hug.

  “I’m sorry, Dad.” I sniffle before wiping my tears. “I’m just a bit emotional lately… Must be because of the wedding.”

  “Oh dear, of course. I understand.” You can’t understand, no. “It makes you think about your mother and me, right?” I smile internally. “The doctors warned a wedding could be challenging for you…”

  “Exactly. It’s harder when your parents are divorced. Why is Paulo getting married for a second time? Love never lasts anyway.”

  “Don’t say that. There are plenty of couples who stay together and are happily married.”

  “Do you know any?”

  “Well… Let’s say it’s fifty-fifty.”

  “Sounds ridiculous—getting married to have a fifty percent chance of splitting up.”

  “I know… Adults are like big kids, Petra. They like to dream and believe they’ll remain together forever.”

  “Do you think that’s why Alex never settled down?”

  “I don’t know. Your godfather is quite pragmatic, so maybe he never saw the point. At least, he’s smarter than me,” he replies with amusement.

  “Sounds wise. I should follow his example.”

  But suddenly his smile vanishes from his face. “He’s not like you, Petra.”

  Dad takes a deep breath while staring intently at the horizon, thinking something through. “Look, one day very, very far away, you’ll meet a man who’ll love you unconditionally. He will want to make you the happiest woman in the world, even if that means sacrificing himself, his own desires, and his own happiness to make yours shine. When you meet someone like that, you should be on the safe side and can marry him,” he jokingly replies. “Your godfather has never been this type of man with any of his girlfriends, and I think he knows that.”

  Chapter 16

  Parque Lage, October 19, 2019

  Petra Van Gatt

  It’s an evening wedding. I’m surprised to learn it’ll start only after sunset, at six thirty p.m. But as I step out of the car, I look at the beautiful Parque Lage, 148 acres of pure green scenery, with the famous Corcovado Mountain and Christ the Redeemer in the background. The gardens are all lit by soft lights, and a blanket of bright stars are slowly settling in. On the roundabout, white flowers are floating on the waters of a large marble fountain. Anabela was right—the setup for the wedding has blown everyone away. Located just twenty minutes from Copacabana, the park has a romantic story of its own, dating back to 1859 when Brazilian businessman Henrique Lage decided to buy the land and build a replica of a perfect Roman palazzo with sumptuous gardens in order to hold his own wedding reception with his future wife, the Italian singer Gabriella Besanzoni.

  The palazzo is right in front of me, just above the stairs, covered with a white carpet and flowers on each side.

  “Wow, Petra!” Luiz can’t contain his excitement. “You look like a Hollywood actress from the fifties!”

  I smile. Indeed, I’ve developed a love affair with retro fit-and-flare dresses. They accentuate my waist, aren’t too revealing, and are long enough for my taste. I’m wearing a light and dark sky-blue chiffon dress with tulle underneath. I like how the colors match my blue eyes. A hairstylist even did a chignon in my hair.

  “Thank you, Luiz. You look great too.”

  I greet Miguel and Claudia and am introduced to Norberto and his girlfriend—which are both also in their early twenties.

  All of a sudden, we hear the sound of a sports car engine approaching.

  Ugh. Not surprisingly, it’s the gorgeous Rafaela and Alexander in a dark-gray Maserati. What a pathetic show-off, I think, shaking my head.

  They get out of the car, Alex hands the key to the valet, and then buttons his black jacket. Damn. He looks hot as hell, wearing a satin-lapel black tux—just like when I saw him at my father’s fifty-fifth birthday. I can’t help but smile. He notices and smiles back.

  Rafaela looks just as gorgeous wearing a red silk gown with some lace floral motifs on the sides. I realize how busty she is. Her breasts look so firm and round, I wonder if they’re natural or not. “Rafaela, you’re strikingly beautiful!”

  “Oh, Petra. Look who’s talking. You look like an angel!”

  “You look just as divine,” I reply, climbing the stairs with them to the entrance of the palazzo where the wedding will be held.

  We are welcomed into a sumptuous patio—the main area of the wedding. But we don’t go there. Instead, we cross th
e corridor and enter into a ballroom where the religious ceremony will be held.

  The room with high ceilings and chandeliers is also immersed in white tones and flowers. A long dark-blue carpet down the aisle leads to the altar at the end. I am seated beside Luiz and his brother.

  The pastor is already standing in front, along with the groomsmen and bridesmaids. The religious ceremony is intimate, with no more than family, close friends, and relatives in attendance. A maximum of a hundred guests now wait for Paulo and Anabela to arrive. The other two hundred guests are expected only afterward.

  The first processional song is a melodic solo piano. Everyone stands up at the opening of the doors. We catch sight of Paulo, looking sharp and radiant in a black tux. To my surprise, he’s escorted by his mother; arm in arm they walk together down the aisle. Everyone claps and cheers at the sight of them. He waves to the crowd, visibly emotional. I can’t help but smile. He stands next to the alter and waits nervously, staring at the entrance for Anabela, like the rest of us.

  After a couple of impatient minutes, a few young girls and boys appear, spreading white petals on the floor while a new piano melody plays.

  Wow. Finally, catching everyone’s breath, the wonderful Anabela emerges like an angel. I love her custom-made Dior off-the-shoulder lace gown and the white bouquet she’s holding.

  Paulo’s eyes twinkle at the sight of his future wife walking slowly down the aisle, her father by her side. Looking around at everyone’s astonished faces, I better understand what Dad meant yesterday at the beach. Indeed, the couple in front of me are a powerful proof of love and commitment, no matter the age difference.

  My eyes dart unintentionally at Alex. A smile on his face, he’s looking intently at Anabela and Paulo, now standing together in front of the altar.